Promise
by mackenzie925
Summary: A little story of Joan's thoughts after the finale. Some JA


**_TITLE: Promise_**

RATING: PG

PAIRING: Joan/Adam

SPOILERS: Finale

Disclaimer: I do not own Joan of Arcadia.

**Author's Note:** It's been a while for me. I haven't written a Joan story in a long time. Well, this little piece just flowed out of me, something I had been thinking about since the finale. The finale was so ... woah! ... it's taken me some time to really think about it. As a result ... this short little excerpt. Anyway, to all of those Joan fans, sorry I haven't written much with Joan lately. I've been on a JAG run. I hope this makes up for it! Thanks everyone for reading ... Enjoy! Reviews Welcome!!!

**_Promise_**

Joan sat motionless on the couch, enjoying some time alone with her thoughts. The house supplied a warmth she felt no where else, especially with the sound of her family in different rooms, the fire popping and crackling in a familiar rhythm distinct to this place and this time. Staring into the fire was something Joan loved to do, often when she felt depressed, sad, lonely, and even happy. Tonight, however, happiness did not characterize her current feelings. In fact, it was at the other end of the spectrum, she mused. Sadness, loneliness, depressing ... yeah, that summed up her feelings right now. Betrayal, as well. Though the latter only came when she allowed it to.

Now a full week after returning from the hospital, Joan still could make no sense of what had actually happened to her. If there was any definition that dared to help her, dared to give her some clue as to what she went through, it certainly hasn't revealed itself. She tended to believe there was no explanation, now more than ever succumbing to the doctors' hypothesis of being, well, 'delusional'.

_Delusional._

_Had the entire year been a joke?_

_A dream?_

Honestly, she didn't see herself as a delusional person, or even an unintelligent person. In fact, Joan would describe herself as one with much common sense, hardly ever getting caught up in something fake. Or _delusional._ Even now, the word sounded foreign, an unacceptable solution to her visions of God. Because God _was _real, right? Wasn't he? Everything she did, every task she accomplished, all of it came back full circle. All of it was apart of a plan, a plan promising good things in the future.

A hand grasped hers now, causing her to shake away her current debate. Glancing to the side she saw him. Adam. He didn't believe her. He'd stated as so, ultimately convincing Joan of how insane she really had been. Yet he didn't know, he didn't see. How many lives did she save when she took Ramsey to the dance? How much had she really helped Adam this year, despite how many times she hurt him? It was her that urged Kevin to find a job, in the end. Right? Could all of that be visions, images she only created for herself?

Smiling blankly, simply, Joan squeezed his hand now, despite how upset she was with his lack of faith. In her. In her visions of God. They had to be true, she knew they had to be. Yet so much rational thought dared to prove her wrong, dared to unveil the mirror, bouncing back her own insanity.

Adam smiled back, unable to take his eyes off of her face, the features riddled with a despair he could not understand. He thought he was beginning to understand the many layers of Joan, everything that defined her. Though the concept now seemed absurd. Understanding her completely would take a lifetime to accomplish, a task he was readily signing up for every second he was with her. At that moment he wished he had such clarity into her soul.

"I got you a glass of water, Jane," Adam whispered, only now Joan realizing he was indeed holding something in his other hand.

Finally Joan turned from her blank stare into the fire to Adam's eyes, his concern and love for her dormant there. He tried so hard to comfort her, to reassure her that, above all else, his love was still true. The entire week prior he rarely left her side, insisting he be there while she recovered at home. In fact, this evening was the first time she wasn't in her pajamas, under a blanket on the couch, completely drained. Tonight was the first night her parents left for the evening, though Kevin promised to stay home to ensure someone was present if something went wrong. And, of course, to chaperone since Adam never seemed to leave the house. The latter reason was an ulterior motive her parents tried to hide.

Though, making out with her boyfriend was the last thing on her mind right now. Gratefully, Adam didn't expect it, either. For some reason, despite Adam's kindness and devotion, he tended to be the last person Joan wished to see right now. And she couldn't even explain it, though her heart knew why. Maybe because of his lack of faith ... or perhaps she couldn't face him ... or her tendency to think of her own insanity and delusions just by being around him, by being in his presence. Right now, she felt like a loser in his presence. Yet underneath everything was disappointment dotted with a displaced anger. Perhaps at her parents. Her life. Adam. God, or the lack thereof.

Herself.

Joan turned back to the fire, wishing then that none of it ever happened. Wishing she never met God, or God had never appeared, or ... Sighing, the yellow and red flames dancing across the logs as if choreographed to do so, the colors complimenting that of her soul, she didn't want to think of it any longer. Washing her hands of it all, of the 'visons' of God, of God himself, of everything related to that time of her life might be the best way to move on. Because, at the moment, moving on by accepting what has happened seemed like an impossible request.

But still ... everything she had done ...

Everything she had seen ...

Sighing, she realized then she had said nothing to Adam since he arrived. "Thank you." Joan glanced absently to him, smiling forcibly, before turning back to the confines of the fire.

Adam, still holding the glass of water, placed it on the coffee table before him. He had no idea how to help her or what to say. All of this was rather new to him, specifically trying to help a person he loved through a difficult time. When that person didn't want to be helped, well, that heightened the difficulty.

Joan didn't _want_ to be helped right now.

Squeezing her hand again, looking to their fingers entwined so naturally, he convinced himself that this time would pass. Everything in life had its turn, like watching the constant, steady movement of a carousel at the carnival, the horses and cars passing quickly in and out of vision. Soon it would be over, soon he would have his Jane back. They would be walking through the halls of school again, her arm looped through his. All of it seemed so real, so close, yet laced with nostalgia, like a poisonous, invisible gas in the very air he breathed, as Adam considered the possibility of such an image never being fulfilled ever again.

"Is there anything I can do?" Adam finally asked, still holding her hand, his features wrinkled in deep thought and sadness. He was sad because Joan was sad, because ultimately there was nothing he could do help her right now. Despite his devotion, despite his declaration of love, of his ability to do whatever she asked, there was nothing to be done. Adam tried everything, from taking her out to dinner, spending time with her, or making her a piece of art, which always made her smile. Now, none of that worked.

Joan sighed, almost irritated with his question, yet not wanting to show him her lack of enthusiasm. She loved being around Adam, but right now, she could care less. Feeling sorry for herself was hardly sexy, hardly attractive, hardly something she needed other people to see, especially him. Often she camped out in her room or this couch, only allowing her mother to see how sad she really was. How disappointed she was in herself for being tricked, for believing that God truly existed. If Adam didn't believe in her, despite his love, than what reason did she have to believe?

Shaking her head, giving his hand a squeeze, Joan whispered, "No. I just want to sit here for awhile."

Joan pushing him away, today hardly an exception, discouraged Adam. After everything they had been through, he truly believed she would have no trouble confiding in him. Isn't that what relationships were all about? Weren't they supposed to share, even when it hurts? Even when they're ashamed?

Adam then took both of her hands in his, ultimately causing Joan to turn his way. He needed to try again. Looking up into her eyes, Adam observed how beautiful Joan looked tonight. She always looked beautiful to him. Wearing a pink blouse, short-sleeved, which accentuated her features, all Adam could think about was the first time they met. Why that memory flooded to his mind, he would never know.

"Tell me what you're thinking," Adam requested in a whisper.

Again Joan sighed, hardly in the mood for any type of intimacy. "I'm not really thinking about anything."

Of course that wasn't true. "I can tell when you're thinking hard about something, Jane," Adam admitted lightly.

Joan smiled naturally, for the first time tonight. "I know."

Adam rubbed his hands against hers, his thumb tracing the back of her hand. "I'm not sure what you want from me right now," he said quietly, the hurt as thick as molasses in his voice.

Honestly, Joan didn't know, either. Maybe she wanted him to leave her alone right now. Maybe she wanted to be alone. Though Adam was being so sweet to her right now, Joan still could not get past this ... resentment. That's the word, Joan thought. The best word. She didn't hate Adam, she didn't hate her parents, or her brothers. She didn't even hate God. But she did resent. Resented Adam for disposing of her visions of God like she was insane. Of course he tried to be nice about it, but still ...

But was it too much to ask him to believe? To have faith?

Faith ... not in God. But in her.

"I'm not sure what I want, either," Joan answered back, unable to deny Adam's warmth. He was trying, she thought.

Adam's lips pressed together, lost now as to what to say. At least, nothing meaningful. Instead of saying anything, he continued to hold her hand, continued to give her all the strength he had right now. That was one thing he knew he could give her, knew she would need. Just surviving a traumatic experience might be an understatement, especially when Joan was absorbing her sickness and her problems fully. Maybe that was why he didn't understand. She seemed distraught about much more than just her sickness. Much more.

"Why won't you talk to me?" Adam finally asked, feeling completely left out, Joan's barrier so high and so thick. Breaking through it became tougher and tougher. He suddenly realized he was crying, so distraught with Joan's attitude towards him, wishing he could be even an ounce of help to her. He felt so lost, so alone right now. For the first time since her sickness, he felt she assumed a different persona than before. Maybe she wasn't the same person, and even worse, maybe she didn't love him anymore. Maybe it changed her that much. Of course, he couldn't forget how crestfallen she was when she revealed her special talent, her ability to talk to God, and his reaction offering only disbelief. Her anger, Adam truly thought, dealt a lot with that, as well. Yet didn't she know it was the disease talking? She knew it couldn't really happen, right? His reaction was warranted.

Joan looked away now, back into the fire, her soul crying for relief. She didn't want to talk, because he wouldn't understand. Intending to survive this alone, Joan knew she couldn't. No matter how hard she tried, at the end of the day, at the end of her imminent debate concerning God's true existence, she needed something real, something tangible. She needed to hear the words.

Glancing back to Adam, the need for him finally outweighing her resentment, she whispered, tears now falling freely, "Just hold me."

Adam couldn't stop his tears now, his cheeks damp in their wake, as he moved a little closer, Joan allowing herself to fold into his embrace, his arms wrapping around her as they leaned back against the couch cushions. Her head rested on his chest, Adam immediately feeling his emotions catching in his throat. Kissing her hair, he rested his cheek at the top of her head, not only comforting her but also feeling comforted, as well.

His lips falling close to her ear, he promised, "I'll always be here."

As steady and constant as his heartbeat, as was his promise to Joan. This she knew, this she never doubted. In response, she hugged him tighter, allowing him to take all her worries away, if only for this moment. Maybe she was being too hard on him, taking out her own problems on him. Maybe he should be expected to have faith, yet his love for her has not wavered, has stayed true. He would never leave her, would never let anything push him away ... even her. Before this she felt resentment, a sickening feeling that sat at the bottom of her stomach. Now ...

Well, now all she wanted was to be held.

By him.

And as Joan lifted her distraught face to his, a hand reaching to caress his face, she allowed her cheek, dampened with tears, to rest against his own.

_Before this_ ... she felt resentment.

_Before this_ ... she needed his faith.

_But what she didn't know_ ... is that she always had it ...

_A faith in their love._

A kiss to his cheek, her lips moving to his ear. "Promise."

**_The End ... _**

**_Reviews Welcome!!!_**


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